Vixen Hunted (6 page)

Timothy choked on dirty
wool.

"Baa! Baa!"

He spluttered awake.
Cat head butted him.

"Baa!"

"I'm awake."
Morning light filtered through cracks in the remaining ceiling.

Hounds howled.

Sleep fled Timothy. He
crawled over and shook Kit awake. She jerked and cuffed him on the cheek.

"Good morning to
you too." Timothy rubbed his cheek. "Hurry! I hear—"

Her impossible ears
stood straight, but exhaustion still tugged at her eyes. "I hear the fat
man. We need to go."

Cat's ears perked like
Kit's. The lamb looked more like a lamb now that she had plucked most of the
forest from her wool. Timothy strained his ears. Silence. No birds, crickets,
or any other sounds that should be plentiful in the woods. It meant only one
thing.

Trouble approached.

"They are coming
this way," Kit whispered.

Timothy shifted to
stand. The creak of the floorboards sounded like a musket shot. He froze. Kit
bit her lip and rose to her feet, gazing around the room.

"They will see us
if we try to slip out the front." Kit's tail bristled. A hound bayed. It
sounded uncomfortably close.

"Baa!"

Cat looked Timothy in
the eye and turned her head toward a hole where the wall and floor joined. She
glanced at them one more time before wiggling through it. Kit caught Timothy's
eye and shrugged.

"Works for
me." She slipped after the lamb.

Sweat ran down
Timothy's back. Hounds bayed. He could just make out men's voices now.

"I…I think I'm
stuck!" Kit's tail flailed.

"Check the
house," said a voice outside.

"I can't…"
The white-capped tail flapped.

They had to get out.
Now.

Timothy grabbed Kit's
wiggling bottom and heaved. Her tail slapped his face.

"Hey! Ugh."

Kit's tail disappeared
through the opening with one more whack to Timothy's face. He fell to his
stomach and heaved himself through with desperate strength. A hard flick to his
forehead welcomed him.

"What was that
for?" Timothy rubbed his forehead.

"I didn't give you
permission to take a handful," Kit whispered.

Timothy rolled his
eyes. Was now the time for that? "It is my husbandly privilege,
right?"

Kit snorted and then
pointed to a small creek that meandered behind the worn house. Cat waited in
the depression. Timothy nodded. The house groaned as the intruders entered.
Hounds barked and whined.

Timothy flopped on his
stomach. Mud squelched and water soaked his shirt. The creek could barely be
called that. Only a trickle of water ran down the center of the mud. At least
the bank hid them from the hunters. What had happened to Kyle?

Cat took the lead.
Kit's tail whacked his face. After the third time he gave up wiping the mud
away. He ignored his grumbling stomach and burning arm muscles.
Strange how
a stomach made demands regardless of circumstances.
He paused and peeked
over the low bank. Soldiers surrounded the old farmhouse. Tahd stood among
them, gazing about the clearing. Timothy ducked back behind the low bank. He
wished Kit would crawl faster.

The creek's mud
hardened farther away from the house. Perhaps they were lucky enough that the
dogs had lost their scent. Timothy buried his face in Kit's tail.

He thumped into her.

"Watch it!
Don't…" Kit's voice strained. Timothy backed away and wiped the splattered
mud from his face.

The creek opened to a
wide flat. Cracks spidered the dried mud. Kit rolled to her side, gasping.
Timothy's arms burned. He needed more than that short sleep. Mud coated Kit and
matted her tail.

"Do you hear
anything?" Timothy asked.

"No. I can't even
smell you with all this mud. I doubt those dogs could." Kit held up a lock
of stiff, hard hair. "I look the part of a forest demon now."

"You could be
her." Timothy gestured at Cat. The lamb pulled at the sticks and mud that
covered her flanks. His stomach grumbled.

Kit placed a hand over
her midsection. The muddy lock of hair stayed standing. "Food sounds good.
But so does a bath."

"You are not a
demon, are you?"

Kit gave him a sidelong
glance. "You are a shepherd. You tell me."

"You look like a
fox with the red tail and hair."

"On the first
guess! Amazing. Bravo. What tipped you off, my ears or my tail? But I should
expect nothing less from my husband. Although I look more like a mud fairy
right now."

"So…you
are
a fox?"

Kit laid an arm over
her eyes. "A vixen? A trickster? A seductress? Humans like to tell those
types of stories." One green eye regarded the shepherd. Her smile held
teeth. "Some of the stories are true."

Timothy cleared his
throat. Best not to think about which stories were true. "So what are we
going to do?"

"Oh,
we
now? What happened to just taking me as far as Fairhaven?"

"Well, I can
always say a fox demon possessed me. Besides, you didn't do anything to deserve
this." Timothy winced at Kit's scowl.

Kit hid her eyes under
her arm. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. I know you
are not a demon because of your eyes."

Kit regarded him again.
He stared at her with a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"My eyes? You
don't know me at all, shepherd."

Timothy's smile
widened. "Fine. It is because you are cute." He gaped. Why did he
just say that? Something about this girl made him lose control of his tongue.

Kit's mud-speckled
cheeks flushed. "And you smell like sheep." She sat up in a shower of
dried mud. "I am hungry and need a bath. We are not safe yet." Only a
few flecks of red peeked through the gunk.

"The mud suits
you, actually. If only we could do something about those ears…" Timothy
said.

His clothes crackled.
He ran his hand through his hair, and flakes of dirt cascaded. The sun promised
a hot day. At least it dried the mud quickly. Timothy offered his hand to Kit.
"If you are as lucky as the stories say, we could use some now."

Kit took his hand with
a small wry smile, "Don't think you will get lucky with me, shepherd. At
least not until I have had a bath!"

Long hours of grumbling
stomachs and trudging through dry underbrush found the trio at a farmstead.
They kept their eyes and ears open for their pursuers. Timothy wondered if Kit
really was as lucky as the stories said. How else could they escape hunters
twice and not see one all morning?

The forest thinned to
pasture dotted with a few knots of trees. In the distance, fields of brown
wheat waved in the breeze. Kit's ears twitched, stubborn patches of mud still
clinging to her hair. Cat munched at a patch of grass. Timothy's stomach envied
the lamb.

"I hear just one
person. Chopping wood, by the sounds of it." Kit combed her tail with her
fingers.

Timothy brushed at his
clothes. Little of the dried mud came free. "Well, I might as well see if
I can earn some food and some straw to sleep on."

"And a bath!"

"Aren't you going
to stop me or urge me to be careful?"

"Why? I want a
bath." She waved her tail at him. "My poor tail. Go. Go before the
mud turns to stone."

"Fine! Don't blame
me if hunters come riding out of nowhere."

Timothy spotted a
farmer some distance away. The grizzled farmer wore a handsome, graying beard
that extended to his chest. His bald pate gleamed with sweat, and his leather
skin creased into a grin. Timothy felt exposed crossing the field, but he
lifted an arm in casual greeting.

"Been climbing
through the trees, lad? I thought you were one of those wood fairies I saw in
me younger days." The farmer spoke in rolling, lazy sentences. It took a
moment for Timothy to understand the man.

"My companion and
I had a bit of an accident and got lost. I wondered if we could earn a meal and
a place to sleep for tonight." Timothy paused. "And a bath for my
companion."

"You mean the
muddy redhead over in the woods?" The farmer laughed at Timothy's
expression. "I may be old, lad, but me eyes still are sharp. She your
wife?"

"Uh, sorry she
didn't come with me. She is a little shy."

He held up a tree
root–like hand. "No need, son. My own wife, heaven rest her soul, was a
red. What they want to do, they do. Reds are rare, for sure. What you want to
do is only what she wants you to do. I could use a little help. Could use some
ditches dug for the rains that be coming."

Timothy looked at the
hot crystal sky. "Rain?" He caught himself and bowed his head.
"Thank you. Mind if I tell my companion?"

"No worries, lad.
She can bathe around back of the barn. Be a trough she can use while you earn
your bed. My sons are all off merchanting and have no time for farming. Hate to
admit it, but I'm not getting any younger." He offered a hand.
"Name's Abel."

"Timothy."

"Glad to meet you,
Timothy. Go get your lady settled. I still got more splitting to do."

Kit waited at the edge
of the trees. "The man's eyes are as sharp as my ears."

"You heard all
that?"

"Of course, shepherd.
You think my ears are only lovely to look upon?"

"Well, I will
leave you to draw your own bath then. I hope those hunters gave up. We need to
do something about your tail and ears—"

"So you don't like
my tail or ears. They are not pretty enough? They are not blond enough?"

Timothy held up his
hands. "We can't very well have you announcing you are a fox. Besides, I
like black hair." His tongue did have a mind of its own around her.

Kit frowned. She tore a
strip of cloth from her leggings and tied it over her ears. "There,
shepherd. Better?"

Timothy's gaze fell to
her bare leg and moved to her tail.

"Humph. Perverted
shepherd. Don't fret." She walked out into the sunlit wheat. "See?
The wheat is more than tall enough. Seriously, shepherd, you think me a
harlot?" She turned and cocked her hip. The muddy tail wagged. "It is
a wonderful tail, isn't it?"

"It is wonderfully
filthy and stinks of mud."

Kit glared over her
shoulder. "Did I say you could look? And you stink of mutton."

"Baa!" Cat
protested at the insult.

"I guess we are
even then."

"Not even close.
At least I can wash away the mud. You, on the other hand…" Kit turned
toward the farm. Her tail slapped Timothy's hand, and she grinned over her
shoulder. He ran his hand through his hair and trudged back to the woodpile.

 Abel's axe neatly
split a log. The old farmer's gaze followed Kit as she walked through the tall
wheat and around the side of the barn. The rustling of the wheat behind her
suggested Cat followed. "She's a red for sure. My wife moved just like
her."

"She is a
handful."

"Women are that,
lad. Guess we are for them too. That ditch needs some work done. Shovel's in
the shed over there."

Despite his exhaustion,
Timothy lost himself in the motion of the shovel. He doubted the hunters would
look for them on the farm. Only a fool would help someone with a fox demon in
tow. He still kept his eyes on the tree line and the road beyond Abel's
extensive fields.

Two days and his entire
life had been upended. Where did his caution go? He preferred to think things
through, but those green eyes called to him like sirens in that Greek story he
read as a child.

Was Kyle safe?
Something in Timothy knew his friend was well. Kyle could get out of any sort
of trouble. Besides, Henrietta would tear down the gates of heaven to make sure
Kyle married her.

The ditch slowly
lengthened along the twine lead Abel had set earlier, and the sun pulled its
earthen blanket over its head. Timothy's stomach gnawed his spine, exhaustion
worming its way into his bones. He replaced the shovel in the tool shed and
found Abel waiting on the porch of his small farmhouse with a bundle of clothes
and a covered tray. Timothy drank in the tray's wonderful scents.

"You worked harder
than I expected, lad. You've earned this and a place in the barn. Your wife
already waits with that strange lamb of yours. Were you a shepherd? Never mind.
You look ready to fall over. Go on now. I have baskets to mend for harvest
yet."

Timothy trudged across
the field to the barn. The double doors allowed a thin finger of light to slice
the deepening night. Stars glittered overhead. He slipped through the gap in
the doors and squinted against the light.

Kit fiddled with her
torn blouse. A finger wagged through one of the blouse's many holes, and her
ears flicked toward him. A thin blanket that did little to hide her slight
curves draped over her. Cat lay sleeping in a pile of straw.